


goodness, beautiful today, will remain so tomorrow

by andrewminyards



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alive Renfri | Shrike (The Witcher), Established Relationship, F/F, Feels, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Menstruation, Period Cramps, Slice of Life, Soft Renfri, Soft Triss Merigold, soft lesbians, they’re lesbians your honour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andrewminyards/pseuds/andrewminyards
Summary: Renfri bites back a curse as a familiar wave of painful cramps slams into her lower abdomen, sudden and brutal, and Triss lets out a soft, concerned hum.“Ren, are you alright?” Triss murmurs, concern clear in the whisper of her voice, a gentle hand sweeping Renfri’s hair back from her face. “Ren, you’re shaking, are you -”“I’m fine,” Renfri grits out, even as she curls further into herself in a futile attempt to stop the pain. “I’m fine, Triss, I promise.”“No, you aren’t,” Triss whispers, reaching out to hold Renfri in her arms. “Please - tell me what’s wrong?”Or:Renfri is suffering through her monthly cramps. Triss doesn’t experience those cycles anymore, not after her Ascension, but she tries to help her girlfriend, and they’re soft for each other.
Relationships: Triss Merigold/Renfri | Shrike
Comments: 30
Kudos: 37





	goodness, beautiful today, will remain so tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> i had really bad cramps this morning and i needed to project a little so have some soft lesbians
> 
> (also, women have periods!! it's a thing! don't just ignore it for convenience's sake, bc it's a real thing that people experience!)

Renfri is in bed, Triss’ arm curled tight around her, when she feels it. 

A slow ache, low in her abdomen, that pulls her from the realm of sleep, yanking her from the gentle sphere of warmth as Triss snuffles behind her, breath tickling Renfri’s ear. It’s a familiar sensation, one that Renfri had expected from looking at that wax and wane of the moon, but she closes her eyes, trying to ignore it.

Sometimes, it isn’t too bad. Sometimes, it goes away. 

So she evens out her breathing, presses back against Triss, and tries to fall back to sleep.

But the ache builds, and builds, and builds some more, until it’s a dull throb that keeps her awake, and she curls in on herself, pressing one hand to her abdomen. Behind her, Triss slumbers on, oblivious, as Renfri grits her teeth, massaging her abdomen as gently as possible, careful to not make any sudden movements that could wake Triss up.

It’s not that bad, not yet. It could fade away, as it sometimes does, ebbing and flowing with the pain nothing more than a distant throb, a constant ache that Renfri can usually ignore. She’s grateful, those days, that the pain isn’t so bad that she can’t get on with her life, grateful that the cramps, the ache, is something she can put to the back of her mind. 

But some days - 

Renfri bites back a curse as a wave of pain slams into her lower stomach, sudden and brutal, and she jerks slightly, hands curling into fists, eliciting a soft, questioning hum from Triss. 

“Ren?” Triss mumbles, the hazy shroud of sleep slurring her words as she buries her cold nose into the crook of Renfri’s neck, arm curling tighter as another wave of pain wracks Renfri’s body - this time, she keeps still, even as she grits her teeth. “Y’good?”

“I -” Renfri croaks out, then clears her throat. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep, sunflower.”

“Mm,” Triss hums, and Renfri lifts one hand to grab Triss’, squeezing it reassuringly. “Sure?”

“It’s early still,” Renfri murmurs, darting a glance towards the windows, barely a sliver of light passing through the gap in the curtains. It’s still mostly dark outside, only the briefest hint of sunlight peeking over the horizon. “Sleep.”

She feels Triss’ breathing even out, her arm around Renfri relaxing, and grits her teeth harder as she lets the series of cramps wash over her, piercing through her abdomen. She’s been stabbed, gutted; she’s had her skin sliced through and flayed open and singed, she’s suffered wounds that most humans would faint at seeing. And yet, this pain, this ache that assaults her every once in a while, an ache that she should be more than capable of forging through - this ache has her body all tensed up, curling in on herself in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain, her jaw hurting at how hard she’s grinding her teeth together.

Renfri has had worse. She has been through so much worse. But as the endless cramps assault her again and again, as they pierce through her abdomen and darken her vision so that everything is blurry, black spots dancing before her eyes, Renfri has to bite her lip bloody to stop herself from crying out, nails drawing blood as they dig into the palms of her hands, sweat beading at her temples as she fights through the pain. 

She can’t wake Triss up. Not with this. 

She curls into a ball, hands pressed to her abdomen, and a shudder runs through her. Gods, this _hurts_ , and she wants it to _end_. The bleeding hasn’t started yet, but Renfri knows that it will soon - after all, the pain is a precursor and a companion to her lunar cycles, to the heavy bleeding that she so despises. 

“Ren.” Triss sounds more awake now, concern clear in the whisper of her voice, a gentle hand sweeping Renfri’s hair back from her face, sweaty strands clinging to her skin. “Ren, you’re shaking, are you -”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Renfri grits out, too harsh, too rough, and she softens her voice, tries to stop herself from shaking, determined not to let Triss worry. “I’m fine, Triss, I promise.”

“No, you aren’t,” Triss murmurs, pressing the back of her hand to Renfri’s cheek. “You feel - tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’ll pass,” Renfri tries to deflect, but Triss clambers over her so that they’re face to face, dark eyes wide and worried as they settle on Renfri’s bloody lip, realisation dawning on her gaze when she sees the way Renfri is curled into herself, hands pressed to her pain-wracked abdomen. 

“Does your stomach hurt?” Triss asks, hands reaching out, and Renfri feels the familiar spark and sputter of Chaos as Triss tries and fails to instinctively summon her magic. Triss’ lips flatten into a thin line at the reminder that she can’t use her magic, not so close to Renfri, and places a hand over Renfri’s abdomen, gentle and warm. “Please, tell me what’s wrong?”

“My lunar cycles,” Renfri admits grudgingly, and Triss makes soft noise of realisation. “They’re not always this bad, but - _fuck_.”

A stab of agony, and Renfri breathes harshly, in and out and in and out. Triss’ hands flutter around her, hesitant and unsure, as she murmurs sweet reassurances into Renfri’s ears, a low litany of comfort as Renfri shakes through the tide of pain. 

“I - how can I help?” Triss asks helplessly when the agony recedes momentarily, leaving Renfri wrung out and tense in anticipation for the next wave. “I don’t - I don’t -”

“There isn’t anything,” Renfri admits, her body too hot, her loose shirt clinging to her sweaty back. “I’ve never been able to - fuck, _fuck_ -” she gasps, and Triss rubs her stomach soothingly, “I’ve tried herbal remedies, but none of them have worked, I just have to - ah, _fuck_ \- get through it.”

Chaos sparks and sputters out around them again, and Triss makes a noise of frustration. 

“Can I -” Triss extricates herself from Renfri, slipping off the bed, and Renfri is too wracked by agony to mourn the loss of Triss’ warmth as Triss walks to the corner of the room, far enough from Renfri that she can finally use her magic, a warm orange glowing against the dark skin of her hands. Renfri blinks at her through blurry eyes, spots dancing before her vision, watching as Triss hurries back and presses her hands to Renfri’s abdomen, brows furrowed in concentration, and Renfri moans in relief when Triss’ hands, so warm that it borders on hot, alleviates the worst of the pain. 

“Does that…” Triss' voice trails off when the glow of her hands fades away, her hands returning to their normal warmth as Renfri’s presence causes all magic to dissipate around her. “There has got to be something I can do. Ren...”

Renfri shakes her head, lifting her lips into a weak smile. “I’ve tried a lot,” she breathes out, releasing one hand from her stomach to beckon Triss to come back to bed. Triss complies, an unhappy twist to her mouth, a pout that Renfri would usually lean in and kiss if not for how much sheer agony she’s in. They face each other, Triss cupping Renfri’s cheek with one hand, her other hand tangling with Renfri’s own, a warm weight on her stomach. 

“I’m sorry.” Triss worries her lips, stroking her thumb over Renfri’s heated cheek. “I can’t…”

“It will pass,” Renfri reassures her, voice strained, face twisted into a grimace. “Just… hold me?”

And so Triss does, pulling them closer with one arm, her other hand gently rubbing circles on Renfri’s abdomen. “I’ll find a way,” Triss vows, pressing a kiss to Renfri’s forehead and she shudders through another tide of agony lancing through her. “I’m good at potions, and healing, and I’m going to make you - something, a potion that can ease your pain. I can’t - I can’t bear seeing you like this.”

“I know you can,” Renfri murmurs back, nudging Triss’ leg with her foot so that she slings one leg over Renfri, drawing them closer. Now that Triss is awake, Renfri lets the cries of pain escape her lips, lets herself be vulnerable - she can do that, in front of Triss, be vulnerable and let herself go for a while - and Triss whispers soothing words in her ear, touches her gently, tenderly, holding her through the cramps pummelling her addomen, swiping her thumb over Renfri’s wet cheeks when tears force their way out of her eyes.

She never cries, not when she’s stabbed, not when she’s suffering from multiple cuts and bruises and injuries. She never cries - but gods, she’s crying now, unable to stop the way tears leak, unbidden from the corners of her eyes, but Triss doesn’t judge, only kisses away her tears, brushes her fingers through Renfri’s sweaty hair. 

Triss holds her until the sun comes up, until the agony finally fades away for more than a few seconds, and Renfri uncurls from herself, a dull throb persisting in her abdomen, but more bearable now. The piercing agony will come back later, but for now, she slips one leg between Triss’, pulls one arm from her stomach and slings it loosely over Triss’ side. 

“Better now?” Triss questions softly, tucking a strand of hair behind Renfri’s ear and pressing their foreheads together. 

“For now,” Renfri confirms, leaning in to give Triss a gentle kiss for the first time that morning, and Triss sighs softly against her mouth, careful not to aggravate the healing wounds on Renfri’s bottom lip.

“I’ve never seen you so - in pain from your lunar cycles before,” Triss whispers when they break apart, tracing the pained lines of Renfri’s face with dark, concerned eyes, and Renfri loves her, loves the way she _cares_ so wholeheartedly, loves her open sincerity and genuine worry, loves the way she sees Renfri as more than the Shrike, more than a child of the Black Sun, more than a monster. 

“This doesn’t always happen.” Her most painful cycles have always happened whenever she’s travelling without Triss, whenever Triss spends time at court and Renfri is out on the roads. She’s always hoped that Triss wouldn’t have to see her in such a state, eyes swollen red from tears of pain, sweaty and dishevelled and shaking, but Triss doesn’t judge her, has never judged her, only brings her closer, holds her tighter. 

“I would’ve thought that there would be remedies for this.” Triss rubs a warm hand over Renfri’s abdomen, momentarily relieving that dull ache. “Is this… common?”

“It differs from person to person.” Renfri has met and talked to many women on her travels, all of whom experience the same cycles and yet so different. “There are people, like me, who get intense cramps on our cycles, but there are people who only bleed and feel no pain. Like - like you, I guess.”

“Ah, I -” There’s an awkwardness to Triss’ voice, and Renfri meets her sheepish gaze. “ I don’t - mages of Aretuza don’t get lunar cycles. Not after we Ascend.”

Renfri opens and closes her mouth, blinking at the revelation. She’s always assumed that Triss merely doesn’t feel the pain of her cycles - she’s never seen Triss grimace and clutch at her abdomen the way Renfri sometimes does, the way she’s seen various women do, but she never guessed that it would be because she simply doesn’t _have_ the cycles. It makes sense - the mages of Aretuza are infertile, after all. What use do they have for lunar cycles?

For a brief moment, Renfri almost feels bitter, envious. How nice must it be, she wonders, to not shove rags underneath her clothing every month, to not have to wash crimson and copper stains off the rags every night during her cycles, to not have these agonising, piercing cramps that have nothing on the pain of a stab wound and yet seem so much worse. 

But the bitterness and envy quickly fades away into something softer, something sweeter - something like gratitude that Triss - her sweet, lovely, caring Triss, her golden sunflower - won’t have to experience such debilitating agony every month. Renfri would only wish such pain on her enemies - if Stregobor weren’t already dead, Renfri would love to see him suffer through such cramps for eternity - and she’s quietly glad that Triss won’t ever know this agony. 

“Sorry,” Triss blurts, biting her lip. “I shouldn’t have - I know you’re - I didn’t mean to -”

“You’ve never had a cycle?” Renfri asks, pressing a gentle kiss to the freckles dotting the dark skin of Triss’ cheek, a gesture of reassurance. 

“Oh, I…” Triss blinks at her through dark lashes, and she’s so beautiful that Renfri almost forgets that aching throb that persists dimly in her abdomen. “I used to. When I was training. But after I Ascended… I don’t really remember it anymore. I think it was sometimes painful, but I don’t… I’m sorry. I wish I still had it, if only to - to be less helpless. To be able to help you, to be able to understand.”

There’s regret in her voice, a helplessness and frustration born out of her golden, gentle heart, her caring soul that wants only to help everyone, and Renfri loves her so fiercely, loves how much she _cares_. 

“I’m glad,” Renfri confesses, taking Triss’ hands in her own. “I’m glad you don’t have to feel that pain. You’re the last person I would wish this on, and I’m grateful that you don’t ever have to suffer through that.”

Triss’ dark eyes flutter shut, lashes brushing the top of her cheeks. “But I want to understand. I want to _help_ , and I feel so -”

“You’re here,” Renfri interrupts, honest and open in a way she only ever is with Triss, tangling on hand in the wild curls of Triss’ hair. “That’s all I need.”

Opening her eyes, Triss smiles at her, hesitant and tremulous, and Renfri smiles back. Her abdomen still aches, throbbing in a way that hints at the pain that she knows will come, but with Triss in her arms, she can’t quite bring herself to care. 

“I’ll make you a potion, a remedy,” Triss promises, squeezing their entwined hands. “You won’t have to suffer like this on your lunar cycles again. I won’t let you.”

“Alright,” Renfri agrees, letting herself believe. Triss is one of the strongest mages in Aretuza, specialising in plants and potions and healing, and Renfri places her faith in her, sealing it with a kiss before flinching as cramps start building once more. “But, for now… Hold me?”

“Always,” Triss whispers, a vow and a promise, and holds Renfri close, holds her through her cries of pain and tears and shudders, holds her gently, a circle of warmth and tenderness, and when the pain ebbs again, Renfri kisses her, happy and grateful.

It hurts, it really does, but at least - at least, she has Triss by her side. 

The next time Renfri almost rolls off the bed when the cramps assault her, Triss scrambles to her pack, pulling out a potion, a deep green that’s just slightly translucent, and when Renfri forces it past her lips, swallowing the bitter liquid, her cramps slowly abate, her vision clearing. 

“I…” Renfri presses a hand to her abdomen. There’s no pain, no throbbing ache, and she looks up to meet Triss’ eager eyes. “Triss. Thank you.”

Triss beams, bright and proud, and Renfri hurries over to pick her up, kissing her deeply and passionately as Triss laughs, slinging her arms around Renfri’s neck. 

“I told you I would make you a remedy,” Triss murmurs against her lips, and Renfri smiles, light and giddy.

“You did,” she confirms, leaning in for another kiss. “And I never doubted you for a second, my lovely mage.”

**Author's Note:**

> yes i will update some of my wips i promise but i needed to project and i love me some soft tender wlw in love with each other
> 
> i wrote another wlw fic recently with witcher yen and witcher triss being bamfs who are soft for each other, check it out [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918829) if you're interested?
> 
> come find me on tumblr [@jaskicr](https://jaskicr.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> also, if you love the witcher women and you love some wlw, [here's a server for all your witcher women and femslash needs](https://discord.gg/79fAesEjes)!


End file.
